Love Charms and Other Catastrophes (22 page)

Hijiri tumbled to her knees, then slid against the lip of the fountain until her hair tangled with the leaves.

Stoffel loomed over her, staring.

“Heartache,” Hijiri whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open. Waves of foreign emotion washed over her. It seemed to come from nowhere.

Or, more specifically, the robot. Stoffel cocked its head.

“What have you done to me?” Hijiri asked.

Stoffel spit another flyer at her and stepped back. She heard it walking away; a few more branches snapped, and then the sounds were gone.

Hijiri lay where she was, tears streaking down her cheeks as the effects of the charm made her sick. Lovesickness. She was lovesick. The blue sky above her dimmed until she lost consciousness.

*   *   *

When Hijiri surfaced again, waves of longing and sorrow followed her. She wanted to curl into a ball. The sensation was close to feeling nauseated, but it was coming from her heart rather than her stomach.

She knew the feelings weren't her own.

Hijiri heard the faint murmur of voices, beeping, and shoes shuffling on tile. Slowly, Hijiri opened her eyes, taking in the pale purple walls and the thick blanket covering her from neck to feet. She shared a room with another woman whose bed was screened off. The woman cried, moaning and thrashing.

I'm in the hospital
, Hijiri thought thickly. Heaviness made her want to shut her eyes again.

The door opened and a doctor came in, followed by two nurses. “Miss Kitamura, good to see you awake,” said the doctor, introducing himself as Dr. Vermeulen. He was a short man with a receding hairline and three red pens in his front pocket.

Hijiri blinked and squinted. Her vision was strange too. She saw everything slightly pink, as if the twins had slipped rose-colored glasses on her while she was sleeping.

“You're the fourth one today,” Dr. Vermeulen said. “Same symptoms. Heart palpitations, stress, depression, stomach pains, excessive longing, the urge to write bad poetry, and shortness of breath. In short, lovesickness. I've never seen cases this extreme in Grimbaud.”

One of the nurses muttered something about lovesickness not being real. The other nurse elbowed her in the ribs.

“Don't tell me there's an incredibly handsome stranger running around making men and women swoon until they're lying in the hospital,” the doctor said.

“Not a stranger,” said a rough, familiar voice. Detective Archambault leaned against the doorway, radiating an intensity Hijiri could feel even through her sickness. “A runaway love charm.”

“Love charm?” Dr. Vermeulen echoed.

Detective Archambault's expression hardened. She crossed the room to Hijiri's bedside and asked her to tell her what she saw. “I know you're in pain right now, but I need all the information I can get to catch this love charm and the person who made it.”

Hijiri swallowed thickly and nodded. Her arms felt like noodles, but she managed to sit up. Her eyes swam with tears, and longing made her achy. Still, she spoke as clearly as she could about Stoffel. The flyers. The endoskeleton. Its impossible motion. The hug that infected her with this sickness.

The detective held her hand, her touch surprisingly gentle. When Hijiri finished, Archambault said, “Thank you. The other three victims had fainted early on. They couldn't tell me anything about how they got sick.”

“I tried to run away,” Hijiri whispered.

“Good girl,” the detective said. “And so you should have. I would have done the same.”

“The culprit is obvious, isn't it?” said another familiar, welcome voice. Fallon marched into the room, her chin lifted and her eyes trained on the detective.

Hijiri raised her head and smiled through the heartache. Behind Fallon, a few of her friends gathered in the doorway. Ken was in front, looking pale and worried. He squeezed his hands into fists over and over.

“Think about the suspects we have. Hijiri said a charmed robot attacked her. A
robot
. Which of the love charm-makers works with technology?” Fallon said.

Detective Archambault's mouth twitched. “Yes, I've noticed the connection too.”

“I'm sorry. It's just that my friend's hurt and I can't sit here while the town is in danger.” Fallon gestured to the ex-rebels. “
We
can't just sit here.”

“I appreciate your concern and quick thinking,” the detective said, not unkindly, “but you are high school students. This is not your responsibility. Care for Miss Kitamura and focus on your studies. I will apprehend whoever is behind this.”

Fallon's cheeks flushed, but she didn't argue.

The twins exchanged a look. No way were they going to wait this one out. Hijiri sensed a plan brewing between them. Which, considering the fight they had at the café, was a miracle in and of itself.

The nurses insisted on ushering everyone out of the room—too many people, not good for the patients' health—but Detective Archambault silenced them with a deep frown. “Let them stay,” she said, “just this once.”

“Ten minutes,” Dr. Vermeulen said, compromising. “Miss Kitamura needs her rest. We must run some tests to figure out how to treat her. So far, the cure eludes us.”

Hijiri took a few shallow breaths. She had school. Her missed-connections charm needed to be crafted. Her heart stirred with anxiety, making her double over in pain.

“Easy now,” Dr. Vermeulen said. “You'll be excused from school. I've already notified your parents.”

“My parents?”

“Well, I left messages through their emergency contact numbers,” he said with irritation. “They can't be reached.”

Hijiri shook her head. Typical.

The more cheerful of the two nurses moved to fluff her pillows. “Don't you worry. As soon as we cure you, you can go home.”

A cure? How? This is not a medical illness. It's a charm.
Hijiri wanted to say something, but her throat felt dry and her tongue too thick. She sank back into the pillows as the doctor and nurses left the room.

Within seconds, Ken was by her side, covering her hand with his. “I'm so sorry,” he said. “I didn't make it in time.” He had been the first person to find her collapsed near the fountain. After carrying her to the nearest shop, he had the manager call an ambulance.

“How did you know where to find her?” Sebastian asked.

“Love,” he said.

“Love's too busy,” Hijiri muttered.

“Who else could have made the stone cupids point their arrows in the direction of the park?” Ken said, his eyes shining. “They changed their poses right before my eyes. If that's not Love, I don't know what is.”

And you couldn't help me?
Hijiri thought bitterly to Love. Now she was stuck in a hospital bed for who knows how long. Only another charm could overpower this one.

Fallon's gaze slid from Ken to Hijiri. After hesitating for a moment, she said, “What about the True Love's Kiss charm?”

Hijiri's eyes flew open.

The twins gasped. Mirthe rubbed her hands together. Femke raised her eyebrows.

Nico, who'd been quiet up until then, almost whooped at the idea. “It should work, right? We can get Hijiri out of here by tonight!”

“It's not that easy,” Hijiri said. Three tears slipped down her cheeks. Some uninfected part of her heart warmed to the idea, but hanging on to the feeling was too hard. As she stared up at Ken, the charm amplified the ache in her chest. Part of her wanted his kiss. She just didn't know what part. Not that it mattered. “That charm hasn't worked since Love helped me. It's useless.”

“Even if it
did
work … she's not a boy,” Sebastian said bluntly.

Hijiri wished she could have laughed. He had a point. As a girl, her heart was in a precarious location for kissing. No, they needed another option. A charm that would get her out of here. “Okay,” she said. “I think I have a love charm for this.”

The charm was an old one that she had crafted in middle school, back when her anxiety made her jittery and sick. She had bought a ton of ingredients and spent weeks working on the right combinations to craft tea that could calm her heart and ease her nerves. She called it Heart's Ease. It was one of the only charms her parents had taken notice of, though Hijiri wished she hadn't been so adamant to share it with them. Mr. and Mrs. Kitamura had signed her up for multiple summer programs to help her “socialize more,” and Hijiri ended up sharing her charmed tea with rowdy campers and hospital patients alike. Her memories of those summers were tainted with painful awkwardness—a big reason why she didn't think often of the useful tea she kept in a tin in her kitchen.

Heart's Ease was more than useful in this case. The tea was infused with a special brand of love she had squeezed from watching touching family movies and researching comfort desserts. Anything to make the heart feel snuggled and warm. Secure.

When she told her friends about the tea, Ken's grip on her hand tightened. Hijiri stared at him under her lashes, curious about his tight-lipped smile, like he was suppressing a full one. The lovesickness tugged her concentration away.

“Tell us where you keep the charm,” Fallon said. “Sebastian and I will go get it.”

“The kitchen cabinet above the stove,” she said. A filigree spice box held the charmed loose tea.

Hijiri leaned back into the pillows after her friends left. Ken stayed behind, pulling a chair next to her bed. He held her hand so long that she forgot where hers ended and his began.

 

Chapter 16

SABOTAGE

Stoffel's charm affected her dreams too. She paddled her way through a pink sea, unable to find up or down. The sea tasted bitter like biting into dark chocolate when you expected milk. Hijiri pressed her mouth closed and kicked toward the surface—
Was that the surface?
—but the water pushed her down.

Her heart had somehow escaped her chest; even in her dreams, it was smaller than a fist. It carried a rope for Hijiri to grab on to. As it passed, she reached for the rope with both hands but her fingers missed.

Her heart left her behind.

Hijiri woke three times to the sound of the woman in the bed next to her sobbing. Hijiri reined in her symptoms as much as she could, but she cried too. Silent tears. Sniffles. A longing so deep it drowned her even in her dreams. Ken was there each time she woke up. “You don't have to stay,” she murmured.

Ken frowned and wiped away the tear tracks on Hijiri's face. “Is the lovesickness worse with me here?” he asked.

Hijiri shook her head. “The terrible part,” she said, “is that the aches and pains are abstract. No one's causing me this heartache. It's got a life of its own, all the symptoms without a beloved to feel sick over.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I want a notebook,” she groaned, “so I can write bad love poetry.”

Ken chuckled softly. “They should be back with the tea soon. Rest.”

“Some people don't like hospitals,” she said, pressing her cheek to the pillow.

“I'm not one of them,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair.

Hijiri leaned into his touch; it was a welcome distraction and she didn't want him to stop. The sickness wasn't real. It was just a charm.

When she woke again, she overheard Dr. Vermeulen saying that another victim had been found in Verbeke Square: a lace shop employee taking out the trash at the back door.

“Grimbaud can't fall into panic,” came the detective's voice. “I need to make an arrest soon.”

“And we need to stop the sickness,” the doctor said.

“The
charm
,” the detective corrected. “Take care of the victims. With any luck, we'll have this case solved soon.” The detective's footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Hijiri felt someone gently shaking her shoulder.

“We're here,” Fallon said. She held the filigree spice box with reverence. Sebastian was by her side.

“What day is it?” Hijiri asked, struggling to sit up in bed. Ken handed her a cup of water. She drank it slowly, careful not to cry into the cup. She hated the crying.

“It's still Sunday,” Sebastian said. “A little after seven.”

Hijiri opened the spice box. The loose leaf tea smelled delicious—strongly of hibiscus, with vanilla and caramel undertones. One of the nurses came in with a mug of hot water. Fallon provided an infuser shaped like a lounging cupid, its silicone arms resting on the lip of the mug. The water turned a rich, ruby-red color. Everyone gathered around the bed while Hijiri blew on the hot tea.

The first sip burned the back of her throat as it went down. Fire spread through her veins, clashing with the lovesickness charm residing there. Hijiri kept drinking. Normally, the tea brought warmth to loosen muscles and relax the body, but it was fighting another charm and reacting strongly. One charm had to overpower the other and she hoped that her charm would win.

Her heart trembled between the two charms for what felt like ages. Then, slowly, the Heart's Ease tea gained the upper hand. But
only
the upper hand. Stoffel's charm stayed put. Her vision cleared with only the slight flickering of a pink tint and her tears dried, though she still felt on the cusp of crying.
The longing is manageable
, she thought.
I just have to keep drinking the tea.

Dr. Vermeulen burst through the door, his stethoscope hanging from his neck. His eyes widened when he saw Hijiri push back the covers and slip out of bed. “What's going on here?”

“I'm fine,” Hijiri said. Her body still felt weak, as if she hadn't slept in weeks.

“If this is a trick…” Dr. Vermeulen said, wagging his finger. Then he sighed and used his stethoscope to listen to her heart. “No more palpitations,” he said with wonder. “No more tears. No heartache? How could this be when the other victims are only getting worse?”